The Dark I Know Well
by TechnicolorNina
Summary: He should have known better. Jack/Kiryu, kindasorta Kiryu/Jack/Yuusei. Season Two A/U. Written for Calaidi.


**Title**: The Dark I Know Well  
**Author**: Nina/**TechnicolorNina**  
**Fandom**: Yu-Gi-Oh! 5Ds  
**Pairing/Characters**: DS!Kiryu/Jack/Yuusei  
**Word Count**: 3 261  
**Spoilers:** uh . . . technically? Only through 34. But, this takes place post-45.  
**Story Rating**: **R/M** for character death and Jack having seriously dubious morals.  
**Story Summary**: He should have known better.  
**Notes**: This was harder than hell.  
**Warnings**: Sex. Death. Blood. DARKFIC.  
**Feedback**: There may be something out there that's better than a review containing concrit, but if there is, I haven't found it yet. So if you have two minutes and you wouldn't mind? Please? Arigatou. (And concrit is cool. Flames are not.)  
**Special Thanks/Dedications**: This story is for **calaidi.**

* * *

Jack had been working on how easily he got pissed off. He really, really had.

But this was the limit, and he felt he had the right to be pissed. And so as soon as his hands were untied – before anyone had even thought of reaching for the cloth tied tightly around his mouth – he spun around and kicked. Hard. He didn't even feel regret when it was Carley's shoulder he caught with his foot. She barely seemed to notice, anyway. Maybe being dead had its benefits.

Someone grabbed a handful of his hair and yanked. Behind the cloth, Jack yelled. He couldn't even remember how he'd gotten here. One minute he'd been arguing with Yuusei, and the next he'd woken up to find himself being dragged along somewhere near the edge of the crevasse that marked the beginning of B.A.D. and the end of what passed for civilization in Satellite. One of the figures behind him – Carley, as it had happened, a Carley with something a step past indifference in her eyes – had yanked him to his feet, and he'd promptly been marched over the bridge into B.A.D. and then into its very depths.

Behind him, someone chuckled.

"I'll deal with him, Demak."

"Rudger said – "

"I said, _I'll take care of him._"

Jack's hair was released. He looked for something – or someone – he could kick or punch to try getting away. As though the thought had precipitated the action, his hands were suddenly grabbed and held together behind his back.

"You'll be coming with me, Jack."

"Fuck you, Kiryu."

There was no answer – just another of those chuckles that made Jack feel like someone had dragged one of Yuusei's shop files down his spine. Jack's wrists were tugged, and he stumbled backward.

They were well out of sight of the other Dark Signers when Kiryu stopped.

"If I let you turn around, are you going to try running?"

Jack shook his head. There was no point; he'd long since lost track of the twists and turns of this place, and it was so close to pitch-black he couldn't tell where the hallways were anyway. "No."

"Then I'm going to let go, and you're going to take my hand."

"I can't see your hand, dumbass."

Something that might have been a frustrated sigh. It sounded so much like the old Kiryu that even Jack's heart clenched at it. "Then stand still."

"What the fuck are you going to do, see in the dark?"

"Yes." The hands on Jack's wrists disappeared. "Turn around."

Jack turned, slowly. The blackness was completely disorienting; Kiryu could be anywhere near him, but Jack still couldn't see him.

"Keep going. Not there, you're facing a wall. I said – " a hand clamped over Jack's mark, which lit up and flared painfully, the only spot of light in all this dark, and Jack had to fight a scream – "this way." Jack's arm was yanked.

He finished his turn. Kiryu let go of his arm and reached companionably for Jack's hand, as though he hadn't just painfully prodded Jack in the right direction like a cow. Jack winced, waiting for his mark to flare again. It didn't. He wanted to ask about it – ask how Kiryu could take his hand when Yuusei simply touching that girl's face had set off both their marks – but like hell he was going to.

"You're not going to get away with this. Even if they're short a Signer Yuusei can always get people from somewhere, and – "

Jack's mark flared again. This time he couldn't stop the small pained moan that slipped out between his clenched teeth. The pain faded.

"Don't talk about him here, Jack."

"Who the hell died and made you God?"

A chuckle. "I did."

Jack wished he hadn't asked. Sarcasm was useless if it could be turned back against him. He heard a door open.

"Here we are. All the comforts of home."

If Kiryu intended his statement to be a nasty joke about Jack leaving behind the city and all the amenities he'd earned in it, then he failed. Jack enjoyed having things that were new when he got them and didn't require some creative work on Yuusei's part to make them actually usable, but though there was only a single rickety table (with candles for light – Jack wondered if the Kaiba who'd founded this place was turning in his grave at the idea of candles in a place where technology had ruled supreme), there was a perfectly serviceable rug on the floor and the blankets folded in the corner actually dared to look cosy. Jack was shocked – and more than a little angry with himself – to realise he was actually tired. Kiryu's hand came to rest in the small of Jack's back.

"I'll stay until you're asleep."

"I don't need you to hold my hand to scare the boogeyman," Jack answered, although if he were to be perfectly honest with himself, he was glad to have someone there. Yuusei's father had died down here; so had only God knew how many other people. Even if the person sitting with him was his psychotic dead ex . . . something, it was a comfort to not be alone in the mostly-darkness with the memories of the lost all around him. Kiryu chuckled his insane new laugh.

"No boogeyman in this part, Jack," he said. "These were testing labs for something else. They weren't in use the day everything went sky-high."

"How do you know? You weren't here."

"I can feel them," Kiryu said, as though it should have been obvious. Jack glowered. It was his only available defense. Kiryu brushed Jack's hair absently out of his face and then headed for the stack of blankets. He tossed one to Jack, who only barely caught it. Kiryu chuckled. Jack busied himself with opening the blanket, trying not to make it obvious that he was actively bothered when Kiryu blew out most of the candles. The idea of sleeping in the dark, beneath old Momentum . . .

"You shouldn't be breathing. You're dead."

Kiryu's grin was savage. "Am I? There's more than one kind of alive, Jack. I know that now."

Jack jerked his face away from the cold, cold fingers that brushed his cheek. "Don't do that."

"Mm?"

"I don't want anything to do with you. I told Yuusei you chose to make yourself an enemy to us and I'd oppose you, and I meant i-"

Jack reeled from the force of the slap. He raised one hand to his cheek in shock.

"I said don't talk about him."

"You tried to kill him."

"Why should that concern you?"

That, thought Jack, was a very good question. He'd let himself believe, as Kiryu had, that Yuusei had wronged him – that it had been Yuusei's fault he'd had to leave Satellite – and now, that he had lost everything because of Yuusei, _Yuusei_ who had come to the city and squirmed his way into a tournament and then blithely danced away with a title he'd never really appreciate. And yet, the thought of Yuusei dead was one he didn't even want to contemplate. There was something horribly wrong with it, and he hated it.

"I don't need a reason. He tried to protect us, and you tried to kill him for it."

Another of those chuckles Jack couldn't stand, and then there was a mouth on his neck, tracing its way down to his shoulder. Jack reached back to bat at Kiryu's head, not bothering with aim.

"Did you hear me say don't?"

Kiryu paused. "Yes." The mouth returned to Jack's neck. Jack hissed and shivered as a long-fingered hand slid up the other side of his neck and into his hair.

"This – this isn't three years ago, Kiryu." Jack hated himself for the way his voice cracked. It wasn't three years ago, no, but Kiryu had clearly forgotten nothing.

"Hmmm."

"Kiryu – "

"We're going to fight tomorrow, Jack. And then we'll know one way or the other whose side is truly better. But until then . . . what do you say to some friendly cease-fire?"

"I say you're out of your mind."

Cue the chuckle. "You knew that three years ago. Do I need to ask again?"

"Like hell."

"It is," Kiryu agreed, and before Jack could even try to figure out what Kiryu meant, exactly, he was being lowered to the blanket beneath him and Kiryu was doing the most maddening things to the place where his neck met his collarbone. Jack fought – weakly – to shove Kiryu off. Kiryu closed his eyes, and when he opened them again, they had reverted to their original gold. Jack stared up at him. Kiryu stroked Jack's hair out of his face again. Jack closed his own eyes. He could think of several very good reasons why he shouldn't be allowing this – given ten minutes and a cold glass of water.

Jack heard a sharp gasp from the doorway and jerked his head to the side so quickly his jaw connected with Kiryu's nose. He wasn't sure if he should be relieved or horrified; another Dark Signer would have been one thing, but this . . . this . . .

Was just one more thing Yuusei was going to take away from him.

Kiryu chuckled. From the doorway, Yuusei let out a very small sound that might have actually been a whimper. In spite of his irritation, Jack couldn't help feeling a little sorry for him. Yuusei had already confessed to being terrified of Kiryu and the Dark Signers, and he'd braved his way into their very den only to find himself confronted with what was rapidly shaping up to be sex between two of his erstwhile best friends – one of whom wanted him very, very dead.

Kiryu beckoned him into the room. Yuusei set his feet – Jack suspected he was forcing himself to not simply run like hell – and stood his ground. Jack was vaguely aware of Kiryu blatantly licking his collarbone, and far more aware that the uneasy mix of emotions on Yuusei's face was going to drive him up the fucking wall if Yuusei didn't decide whether he was going to run or come in _right now_.

The lick turned into a bite. Jack hissed. Yuusei's eyes fixed on him, and he took half a step into the room. Jack wanted to hate him – he would almost have rather been caught in the middle instead of while being seduced into it. Yuusei looked down at the floor. Jack considered swearing at him, or saying any number of hateful things to drive him out the door. He didn't want Yuusei looking at Kiryu that way, that uneasy soup of fear and curiosity and desire and – what? It was enigma enough to keep Jack from screaming at him and trying to scare him away.

"Are you going to invite him in?" Kiryu breathed into Jack's ear. "I can tell you want to." The affectionate whisper turned into another bite. Jack inhaled sharply.

This was nothing like three years ago.

" . . . Jack . . . "

And there stood Yuusei, still halfway between them and the door, like some kind of idiot. Jack held out a hand. Yuusei had just better not think he was going to get all the attention around here, too.

Yuusei's eyes darted from Jack to Kiryu and back again. Jack paused. Elaborate traps _were_ Kiryu's style, after all.

"Temporary truce, Jack," Kiryu murmured. "His life is safe. For now." A hand slid beneath Jack's shirt. "We'll say it counts until sunup. And it's not even midnight."

Jack nodded. There was probably a catch somewhere he was missing, but he'd get it. Eventually. He motioned in Yuusei's direction. Damned kid needed to loosen up and get laid sooner or later anyway.

He expected Yuusei to say something, to protest or ask why or maybe even try to talk them both out of it. Instead he was kissed, soundly and squarely on the mouth. After a moment's shock and indecision, Jack kissed back. He thought of something Kiryu had once said - _it's the quiet ones you want to watch out for _ - and thought he understood it, finally. Yuusei was a damned good kisser for someone Jack had thought until about thirty seconds ago was still firmly in the blushing-virgin category. He slid his fingers into Yuusei's hair. It was coarse, and thick, and nothing like Kiryu's.

The mouth trailing over his collarbone disappeared. Jack opened his eyes just long enough to see Kiryu giving Yuusei what was probably going to be one hell of a hickey. Yuusei let out a groan that sounded more like a whine, really. Jack pulled away for air and watched. There was something about the way Yuusei was moving that bothered him – something almost drugged. He thought of a time when Crow had taken a trip to the black market and come back with something they had passed around and smoked – just to try it – and how Yuusei had moved then. Jack wondered if Yuusei had gone back, since Crow wasn't here to get it for him, and if Yuusei had finally reached the snapping point where stress was concerned. He touched Kiryu's shoulder to get his attention. The hand under Jack's shirt slid absently up his chest.

"Take it off."

"I can't move."

Kiryu pulled Yuusei into his lap. There it was again: Yuusei hated being pulled anywhere, and yet he barely resisted being in Kiryu's control. Jack sat up and pulled off his shirt. Kiryu broke off his kiss with Yuusei to leer.

"Somebody's been keeping in shape."

Jack gave him a dirty look, but stayed silent. Instead he reached out to tug off Kiryu's top. Kiryu batted him away and dragged Yuusei's tank over his head. Jack frowned. Then Yuusei kissed him again, skin against bare skin this time, and he forgot about it. Yuusei's skin was warm, still flushed with running, and it was a privilege Jack would not have when Kiryu decided to join them – as he must, if he planned for this to go farther than kissing. Jack had lost enough to Yuusei for his tastes; he wasn't going to let Yuusei top. He felt Yuusei's hand on his belt buckle and stopped him. Oddly, Yuusei didn't protest. Jack turned to Kiryu.

"Do you think you're just getting a free show?"

"Mmm." Kiryu cupped the side of Jack's face, kissed him, ran a hand down his neck to his shoulder. Then he bit. Jack hissed again and jerked away.

"Better?"

The look Jack gave him could have cracked stone. Kiryu only chuckled his insane new laugh.

"That's who I am now, Jack. If you don't like it, don't ask for it."

"And has you now ever heard of lube?"

This time Kiryu did more than chuckle; he positively screamed his laughter. Jack struggled to not simply slap him. Yuusei stroked Jack's side absently. Two of his fingers dipped below Jack's waistband.

"Did I say you could – "

Kiryu pulled Yuusei's hand away. Jack reached again for Kiryu's shirt. Kiryu stopped him.

"You don't want to do that, Jack."

Jack gave him another nasty look. "Let me guess. I take it off and worms come crawling out."

Kiryu seized Jack's hand and thrust it under his shirt. Jack gasped and yanked away; the skin was whole, but horribly cold. Kiryu chuckled.

"Like I said. You don't want to do that."

Yuusei reached for Jack's hand and rubbed it between his own. Jack squeezed Yuusei's hand in spite of himself; he would never have believed any person could be so completely and totally _freezing_ and still walking upright.

"Your hands – "

"Are easier to warm than everything else. And who wants a cold-handed lover, am I right? It can make things so . . . inconvenient." If Kiryu laughed that way one more time, Jack thought, he was going to go insane. It was the shrill, insane note, the one that pierced his head as efficiently as a hypodermic needle.

Kiryu reached for Jack's belt. Yuusei held him, his head resting against Jack's bare shoulder; he seemed content to leave things exactly as they were. Jack scanned the room for anything he could use as lube. Kiryu's words had made things plain; if there was going to be any fucking here tonight, it was going to be him on Yuusei and Kiryu was going to mightily enjoy driving Jack out of his mind without actually participating. He wondered – in an unusually morbid mood – if Kiryu could even get hard anymore. Jack had seen corpses with hardons – usually victims of muggings gone wrong who'd been strangled – but Kiryu was not, strictly speaking, a corpse. Yet. Then Kiryu's hand slid into his jeans. Jack tensed, waiting to be clawed. It didn't happen. He sighed and relaxed back against Yuusei's chest. Yuusei put one hand against the floor – probably to steady himself, Jack decided. He knew he was heavy. Let Yuusei put up with it; he really didn't care.

"Now, Yuusei," Kiryu whispered. Jack opened his eyes and stared down at Kiryu, busy doing with his hands what he could no longer comfortably do with anything else. Then he saw the gleam of metal in the light of the single candle still lit on the table.

Jack was fast enough to sit up fully in the second or so he had left, but not fast enough to get away from the knife in Yuusei's hand. Yuusei let out a miserable cry as the blade sank into Jack's chest. Kiryu pulled his hand away, and Jack was sure he would carry Kiryu's laugh in his ears all the way to hell.

"Yuusei – " Something was wrong with his voice. Yuusei must have gotten his lung. Jack struggled to turn. Yuusei was whining - _whining_. Jack looked into his eyes and recognized, now that it was too late, the last emotion he'd seen swimming there, the catch in Kiryu's promise. He reached – now in slow motion himself – for Yuusei's right arm. Yuusei was still struggling to get free of Kiryu's control, to pull out the knife instead of just twisting it, to try even now to fix things.

The tail on his arm had gone purple.

Yuusei's eyes had gone from half-blank and drugged to completely aware and terrified. Jack pulled in another harsh, whistling breath. It burned. He wanted to curse Yuusei with everything in him – his family, his title, now his very _life_ - but he also recognized the bitter irony: it wasn't really Yuusei's fault at all.

Somewhere, a clock struck one. Yuusei had four hours, give or take, at this time of year. And he couldn't even speak without permission. Jack rested his forehead against Yuusei's shoulder and pulled in as much air as he could. Then he hooked one hand around Yuusei's neck, hoping Kiryu was still too far gone in his laughter to notice. The spider his hand found was hot and repulsive, quite possibly gorging on Yuusei's very blood to keep itself alive. Jack crushed it between his fingers. He should have known better than to trust this new Kiryu to keep his word.

"Send him to hell for me, Yuusei. Get out of here. While . . . you can."

Yuusei's arms tightened around him. "I'm sorry," he whispered, and Jack wished with everything in him that he had enough air left to tell Yuusei he was forgiven.


End file.
